


Mud and Ice

by kitkatkaylie



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Jon Snow was dead to begin with, M/M, Sad with a Hopeful Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:03:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27595892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitkatkaylie/pseuds/kitkatkaylie
Summary: Satin’s heart stopped at the crowd of men in the courtyard
Relationships: Satin Flowers/Jon Snow
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	Mud and Ice

Satin’s heart stopped at the crowd of men in the courtyard, at the wooden cross in the centre, at the guilty faces.

At the blades stained with blood.

Nothing good could have come from this, and yet it was made worse by the lack of the Lord Commander. Surely the Lord Commander would have put a stop to whatever was going on? Unless...

Bile filled Satin’s mouth as he pushed his way through the men, uncaring of how much larger than him they were. He cared not for their blades, for their sneers or the guilt on their faces, only on getting to the centre of the courtyard and the sight he prayed was not awaiting there for him.

Bowen Marsh was the last one in his way, and the Chief Steward placed a hand out as if to rest it on Satin’s shoulder, but his face was guiltiest of all, and so Satin shoved past him.

A cry fell from his lips at the sight of the corpse in the mud and ice.

The sight of those dark curls he had washed and tended to lying in the mud; those grey eyes he had seen lit up with laughter and filled with sorrow, staring unseeing at the sky; Jon’s body limp and riddled with stab wounds.

Satin fell to his knees besides Jon’s lifeless form; tears falling from his eyes. He reached out to Jon, his fingers barely caressing the ice cold skin of the man he loved. 

“Jon.” He breathed, his sobs caught in his throat, “Jon.”

A hand landed upon his shoulder, “We’re sorry lad.” Bowen Marsh said, “We did it for the Watch. It wasn’t personal.”

“You killed him.” Satin pulled himself away from Marsh’s touch, “You mutinied and killed him. He was good and the Lord Commander and you killed him.”

“Satin-“ Marsh tried again, but Satin blocked him out.

His finger traced the planes of Jon’s face, traced those lips that had been so gentle as they had kissed down Satin’s body, and he carefully closed the unseeing eyes so Jon looked like he was merely sleeping.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, “Sorry I wasn’t here with you.”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Jon’s unmoving forehead, uncaring of the whispers around him.

Why should he care what they though of him now?

He sent a prayer up to the unforgiving Seven of his childhood, to the cold Old Gods of Jon’s, and the brutal Red God that the Red priestess served; a prayer that Jon would find a peace in death that he had not found in life, and that he might be reunited with those he had loved and who had gone on before him.

Satin carefully wrapped his arms around Jon’s body, one arm under his shoulders, the other under his knees, and stood. Jon’s head killed against his shoulders, and if Satin ignored the wet blood staining the front of his doublet, and the lack of Jon’s chest rising with each breath, it could almost be as if Jon had merely fallen asleep at his desk again and Satin was carrying him to the warmth of his bed.

He couldn’t ignore those things though. Not when Jon was cold in his arms, and the men parted before him with faces still filled with guilt.

It was a guilt Satin hoped ate them alive.

He took one step, and then another, his entire self focused on taking Jon out of the mud and muck of the courtyard. His Lord Commander, his friend, his love, did not deserve such an ignoble end; he deserved a burial that spoke of his bravery and kindness, not left in the dirt to become food for crows or a servant of the Others.

And yet as Satin entered the cold halls of Castle Back, so a glimmer of red caught his eye and the spark of a plan began to take root.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Find me on tumblr @istaricelebelasse


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